In this world, a woman, a non-white woman, a disabled non-white woman, taking pleasure in the experience of living in her body is the stuff of revolution.
I really love my body, I love it from the ends of my logic- and norm-defying hair to the ends of my long toes. I love the patterns of freckles on my arms, and the two dark hairs that sometimes inexplicably grow on my shoulders, one each, and my chubby thighs. I love the swirl of my ears and the nails on my pinky fingers. I love my waist and my arse, the small of my back and my shoulder blades, my cheekbones and my nostrils, and goodness knows I love my breasts. I take so much joy living in/with/through this form, being me. Sometimes I hug myself for the sheer joy of it all.